LADIES IN LAVENDER
'My favourite flowers? Well, I suppose........
Daisy, lavender and rose.'
Pamela speaking, and you deduce
That she's quaint and gentle, a quiet recluse.
But she's a feisty sort of dame,
A leading light, ahead of the game,
Very with-it and up-to-date.
She has arranged this special date.
Her cottage is such a romantic place
With wicker and pastel and cream and lace.
It seems she likes to set the stage
For an afternoon from a by-gone age.
An antique wash-stand, rose-trimmed pots
Blossoms from dainty garden plots.
A wedding photograph, sepia tinted,
That once was brilliant, newly-minted.
And round the corner another profusion,
Pale flowers in a tossed confusion,
Echoing the white of a clock nearby,
While creamy candles reach on high.
Seen through the window, the creek meanders
Past shady pathways and verandahs.
Hyacinths glow in the winter light
With the water beyond, a restful sight.
The feast is prepared, the table laid,
The cakes on dainty plates displayed.
Pam breathes a satisfied sort of sigh
'A tea-party! As in days gone by!'
Then twenty ageing 'girls' rush in!
What a cacophany! What a din!
Each with a bottle of wine held high.
'Where's the corkscrew?' hear them cry!
In a second they ruin the restful mood!
All they can think about is food! ………. (And drink!)